


Take As Directed

by Lunarflare14



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alludes to Past Abuse, Angst, Gen, Mental Breakdown, Mommy Issues, bad trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarflare14/pseuds/Lunarflare14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason why Trevor's mom isn't there when he comes back with the van.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take As Directed

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt at the end of the fic

It was a day or two after they’d taken care of business. Michael was home alone—Tracey was out with some new college friends, Jimmy was on a bike ride, and Amanda was at the mall. There was a marathon of his old favorite movies on one of those fancy channels he was paying extra for and he figured one day of relapsing behavior wouldn’t kill him or get him in too much trouble at least while his old lady was out on the town. 

_Goin’ off the rails on a crazy train…_

Michael sighed and paused the movie. He knew that ringtone. “What up, T?’

"Mikey, you gotta help me."

Mike sat up on the couch. “Whoa, where’s the fire.”

"I need deludamol. I need a _truck load_ of deludamol. Trevor is a good boy and needs it. I need—" 

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. “Breathe, Trev. Why do you need deludamol? And why a whole truck load? You’re not making any sense. Jesus, what are you on—?”

"Momma wants it and Momma gets it. She says she needs it. She —" Trevor didn’t go on but Michael’s blood ran cold. Slowly he stood, walking to the hall and pulling on his shoes. 

"T, where are you? Right now."

"I’m headed south on Senora Freeway. I really need that truck, Mikey. I really—"

"Pull over. Pull over and don't move. I just— I’ll get you what you need just— pull over and calm down a sec, okay? I’ll be there soon. Just stay put." 

"Okay, Mikey." Trevor hung up after that. 

Mike went to leave but when he opened the door Amanda was there with about ten shopping bags. “Oh good, you’re ass is off the couch. I need your help—”

Mike shot past her. “Can’t. Need the car.”

Her jaw dropped in indignity at his shortness with her. But he climbed in the car and took off before she could ask. Mike found Trevor on the side of the road about an half an hour out. His forehead was bloody and so was the steering wheel. Like he’d been banging his head into it. The other man was leaning back in the seat of his truck, eyes close. “T! What the hell? T?!” Trevor woke up, blinking slowly as he straightened.

"Oh. Hey, M." He looked around. "You didn’t bring the truck."

"No, T. I didn’t bring the truck."

Trevor raised his hands to grip the steering wheel, pressing his bleeding forehead against it. “Momma’s gonna be so mad at me.”

Mike opened the door. “Bro, she’s not gonna be mad at you. You’re going to be alright. She can’t hurt you anymore, remember?”

Trevor looked up at him, and Mike saw it in his eyes. He remembered. Tears started to well up and he turned back to the steering wheel. “Everyone I love leaves me.”

Mike put his arm around Trevor’s shoulders. “Not today, buddy. I’m right here.”

Trevor shook silently in the front seat for a long time. But he didn’t cry. Mike didn’t blame him. She’d been dead fifteen years, he’d cried over her enough.

* * *

 

Prompted by this:

Thanks for reading.


End file.
